


purple haze

by corviiy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Xeno, consensual hypnosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:12:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corviiy/pseuds/corviiy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave and Gamzee have some trouble in the sack; being Gamzee's kismesis is difficult when you have an aversion to bleeding. Karkat tries his best to auspitise, but it's never quite right. The three of them fix to solve the issue with some soft hypnosis, hoping Gamzee would be less inclined to break skin if Dave were nice and gentle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	purple haze

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy my guilty pleasure garbage ship

“Okay, are you sure about this? Because I wouldn’t fucking. I’d. This is shithive maggots, Dave, honestly.” Karkat’s face is etched with concern; he’s doing his best to make you comfortable despite what the situation implies.

 

“I dunno man I’m kinda banking all of my confidence here on your ability to pap the murderclown into submission if he’s starts actin’ up.” You talk about Gamzee like he isn’t sitting a few feet away from you, smoking a cigarette. He doesn’t glare at you like he used to when you speak about him like he isn’t there, but you know it still bothers him. “Otherwise I’m all kinds of mentally prepared n’ all just. S’long as you’re sure.”

 

“Ain’t like I’m gonna up and do anything he don’t want me to.” Gamzee drawls.

 

“Ain’t like you up n’ haven’t before, you sorry excuse for a jazzy solo cup.” One of the funner things about fucking around with a troll is that he doesn’t get all the earth terms in the world, and immediately takes everything you say as an insult. Accordingly, he flicks his cigarette at you. It misses, and you mutter that he’s a pansy before extinguishing it on the windowsill. 

 

Karkat gives you a look. Like he’s giving you the option to change your mind before you can’t. Honestly, though, the idea that you won’t be able to once the three of you start is thrilling of it’s own right; you won’t admit that, though, it would be too much fuel for Gamzee’s ego. No, this whole thing serves a functional purpose.

 

Gamzee found it difficult to engage with you without drawing blood. It meant Karkat had to be involved, but because he can’t control two autonomous people in a kismesis, it’s not exactly easy for him to both participate and auspitise. Gamzee also went through his adult molt recently and manifested some trollish powers he hadn’t before--some kind of mind control. The experiment tonight was so see if this mind control would gentle you up enough to make him not want to break skin, or at least to not care if he does. Karkat there of course to monitor, and participate if it worked.

 

You take a breath and nod.

 

“Yeah. Hit me, dude, I’m down. Ready freddie and a bag of chips.” Karkat gives you a bewildered look.

 

“So just so we’re all understanding, you’re consenting to mind-fucking juggalo hypnosis in which we touch you, and you can’t tell us to stop at any point.” Ever the tactful one, Karkat Vantas.

 

“Well when you put it like that.” You mutter, rolling your eyes. You glance over at Gamzee. “Yo, you said you get like, a feel for people's emotions n’ shit while you’re bumpin around their noggins right?” 

 

“Yeah. S’not like I’d force a motherfucker to get frisky if I felt he weren’t down for it.” It’s a tender thought. You don’t know why you trust it, but you inhale and look away from him. At least he isn’t teasing you for your hesitance.

 

“Okay, yeah, for the bajillionth time, I’m alright. I want to. I’m all set, babe.” You punctuate your point with several little nods and some eye contact with the both of them.

 

“Okay. I’m gonna trust you on that. No instigating when you come out of it I don’t need an even bigger mess.” He warns. That’s where he seems to drop the matter, though.   
  
He moves to pull you up, to straddle his lap and lay contact on your lips. He takes your mind away from impending anxiousness by kissing you until you’re breathless, until your lips buzz slightly like how they do when you’re crossing from tipsy to drunk. It’s warm, firm, and sometimes wet. His teeth catch on your tongue and you swear that despite the fact that both of his hands are on your hips, those are his fingers folding into your hair.

 

Wrong.

 

They’re Gamzee’s. You should have known because they’re long, thin, and cold. He uses his grip to tilt your head away from Karkats, jerking you to look up at him.

 

Your constantly ticking, ever punctual internal clock slows like it’s got molasses in it’s cogs. You’d first concentrated on maintaining contact with his eyes as the full coverage film of them shifted through different tones and temperatures of purple. At some point, it became less about staring him down in some attempt at dominance and more about trying to count his eyelashes to maintain your grip on numbers and reality. It isn’t working though. You’re so fucking spaced out, you feel like you’ve been there for hours when the film starts to form over your own scleras.

 

You’re not even sure where you are, honestly. Somewhere comfortable, soft. You hear the cadence of murmurs that don’t seem at all hostile, so that’s pretty cool. There’s an ever changing blur of color that sedates you, calms you. Everything is interesting; the ceiling you’re staring at, the loved ones around you. 

 

A hand moves to lift your shirt, ghosting over your stomach and pinching the soft skin there. You manage a confused noise, the hand is so cold, and when you move to touch it with your own, the warmer figure ushers the cooler figure back in defense of your movement. Who were you with, even?

 

Lips find yours, and you sigh out, pleasured and audible as he kisses you. Right. Karkat. He’s good, so fuckin’ good.You know the warm pair of hands are his. You’re pliant when he moves your shirt up, rucks it up to your armpits. The colder hands work in contrast; one holds your ribs to the bed, the other pushes down your abdomen and into your pants. Gamzee’s mouth finds your nipple; tongue cold, teeth sharp, you groan when his fingers stroke up the center of your heat, worm between your labia and move aimlessly.

 

You catch the words ‘ _ so fuckin’ wet’ _ . They’re talking about you. It makes you smile somethin’ hazy and sweet, and you roll your hips up against Gamzee’s palm in confirmation. Yes, you’re so fucking wet. Yes, you’re enjoying yourself. He’s the only one of the two of them who can actually tell anyway.

 

Karkat’s lips are on yours again, just for fun, but you can’t keep up like you normally do. Your mouth is busy singing soft pleas and cries for what the two of them are doing. He figures out eventually that his efforts to get more than languid, wet kisses from you are futile, and instead goes for your neck.

 

You don’t know if they’re just on the same wavelength or if they discussed doing it, but Gamzee has the same idea that Karkat does when the both of them bite into your skin. The former’s hand has stopped, but the ball of his palm rests on your pubic bone like if he had the mind to not suck your skin black and blue, he might be touching you better. You feel something like a whine escape you, and try to make an attempt at rolling your hips into his palm again. 

 

This does the literal opposite of what you want. They exchange words, and after a moment neither of them are touching you. Karkat has all but completely pulled away and Gamzee has done that and more. God, you’d be furious if you had it in you. You just don’t, though, and it doesn’t feel like an eternity before cold hands start to slide your pants right off your legs.

 

_ ‘He’s cold, you better warm him up, brother.’ _ Like he’s really reading your mind. Almost.

 

Warm hands stroke the cooled outsides of your thighs and then pull. Or push. They do some kind of magic to turn you around and get you to sit up. Gamzee doesn’t take very long to move into the spot where you were just laying, facing you with his large, wet bulge out and squirming. You sneer at him. The urge to call him disgusting is strong, but he knows it’s all in good fun.   
  
You watch him, vision blurred as his hand moves up and down it’s slick surface. You’d forget about Karkat if not for the way he’s pressing insistent kisses all over your shoulder blades. His hands slip between your legs, fingers circling your clit before he brings them back up to taste. You think you actually laugh, mumble gross, before Gamzee reassures him that you’re fine.

 

Then you feel it. Karkat’s bulge, pressing against your taint like it can’t decide where it wants to go. You think it’s so hentai, that it just wants to fill and wrap around something, anything it can get it’s slimy self in. At the moment, that’s you, and as Karkat pushes his hips into you, you feel it go from warm, soft probing to full fledged stuffing-your-cunt. Your fingers curl up in the sheets between Gamzee’s legs and you moan, head dropping.

 

His hands feel almost bruisingly tight around your hips. You don’t know if you’re actually acting like a pillow prince, or if Karkat is having fun with how easy you are to move like this. He treats you like a toy almost, moving you back and forth like he’s jacking himself off with you. That thought turns you on way more than you care to admit, and you have to drop down again, laying on your arms with your cheek against the sheets.

 

It doesn’t take them long to go the Full Mile. The Grand Strider Spitroast, if you will. Gamzee shifts in front of you, moving so that he’s on his knees instead of sitting. Fingers in your hair, he pulls you back up onto your hands and grips your jaw while his bulge smears itself over your cheek and into the contour of your eye and nose.

 

With your near-constant streams of moaning, it’s easy for him to direct the thing into your mouth. From there, there is no controlling what it does. It takes the liberty of burying itself in your throat while Karkat grinds into you from behind.Gamzee’s hand gripping your hair makes it easy for him to control you, control the bobbing of your head. You’re thoroughly fucked, you think they’re probably having a good time too.

 

Gamzee comes first, because he’s pathetic. You’d tell him so, but you’re not really in a position to, bent over between the two of them with purple spunk either dripping from your lips or sliding into your stomach. He pushes your face into the puddle of material on the bed, tells you not to waste any of it. You find yourself biting the sheets as your only act of defiance because you still have a pussy full of mutant tentacle.

 

Instead of making you stay there like you thought he was going to do, the both of them exchange words and then usher you into sitting  on Karkat’s dick. It leaves you feeling kind of exposed in the front. The feeling exacerbated when Gamzee starts to touch you, tweaking and fiddling like he’s working a synth board. He probably feels like he is, he’s teased you before about how he makes better music playing you like this than you do when you use a real instrument. 

 

His head moves past you. For a second, you swear him and Karkat swap spit over your shoulder, the rhythm of his thrusts staggered and shallow. Then Gamzee’s mouth is on your neck again. It bypasses your shirt and sucks more marks on your breast, then you feel his teeth baring against your skin as he moves down your body.

 

You only understand what he’s doing after your whole goddamn clit is laved over and sucked between his lips. Fuck, fuck. You’re allowed to rest a hand on the top of his head for steadiness, but pushing him down isn’t necessary when Karkat’s thrusts bump you up against him. At some point, he even strikes up some weird alien noise that sends vibrations through the sensitive flesh of the whole area.

 

You’re a mess in a minute. Shaking, gasping, legs squeezing shut as he makes sure he takes you all the way through your orgasm. Karkat is not at all long after, probably because of the squeezing of your walls around his bulge as if it’s trying to milk him of his wildly incompatible jizz. You’re fucking exhausted, legs still twitching and your heat still throbbing. Karkat’s got a longer burn time on his orgasm, so he’s still fucking you long after you’re jelly against him. 

 

When he’s done, finally, they don’t waste any time. He pulls out, wraps his arms around you, and takes ahold of your face to make you make eye contact with Gamzee. Blinking away the film of color and blur is like waking up and washing down halitosis with fresh, slightly minty water. Clarifying, refreshing, and all around better.

 

Until you get a better handle on your surroundings. 

 

“Fuck, assholes, you couldn’t clean me up or nothin’?” You mutter, scowling at your material-covered body. “And really, possessive much? Were you having a fucking contest?” Your skin could be a work of modern art for how many spots were on it.

 

It’s Gamzee that removes you from Karkat, surprisingly. He’s still dealing with the aftershocks. Though his bulge has retreated, his nook and sheath are literally dripping still.

 

“Cool it lil motherfucker. Didn’t want you out of it longer than you had to be s’all.” Gamzee’s taken on a softer tone, not really something you’re used to.    
  
“What? Why? Did I say some uncool shit or somethin?” You ask quickly. Karkat’s coming around enough now to groan and move off of the wet, nasty bed.    
  
“Or something.” He grumbles, pulling the sheets off and balling them up. You realize that you only have to move on leg for him to get it off, and that you’re basically holding all of your weight against Gamzee, who’s at least tolerating it. “C’mon shitleaks, let’s get to my block. We’ll deal with this after a nap.”

 

“Yeah, smells like funk in here.” You comment, prying yourself from your kismesis. Your legs feel like actual jelly, but the two of them seem to know that and already have a game plan, apparently. Gamzee throws a clean blanket over your shoulders, and Karkat picks you up, holding you against him while the three of you walk to his room.

 


End file.
